The Secrets of a Family
by calenore
Summary: Secrets, political intrigue, betrayal, guilt. Not the sort of thing that Astal, a noblewoman of Gondor, is used to. But her parents' deaths bring her world crashing down onto her and she has to find the answers to the unanswered questions that arise.
1. Author's Note

Author's Note

Hello, and welcome to my new fic.  I thought I'd branch away from the Legomance scene a bit (No!  Don't panic!  I AM going to keep up with my Eleriel/Legolas story, and updates on that will be just as frequent!).  But I thought I'd try my hand at something truly creative, if I could manage it.

Anyway, a better summary than what I have crammed into those few lines….

Astal is a nobly born lady.  And she wants nothing more than to keep her life that way and to do what is expected of her.  But the death of her parents sends Astal's life into an unpredicted twist.  An unwanted betrothal is only the first thing.  Before she knows it, hidden family secrets surface and Astal is sent into a battle:  not a battle with orcs and the minions of Mordor, but a battle to find out who she is.  Finding love and friendship in unexpected places, Astal journeys north on a search for answers.


	2. My Father's Will

**"My Father's Will"**

Who am I? Well, that's a pretty question if ever I heard one. I'm a human, of course. A mortal woman. I was born in Gondor, but as it turns out I have little or none of the blood of Gondor running in my veins. But I will speak more of that later. I live in the north now, wandering the wilds by myself. How did I come to be here? Well... 

It all began when I was just a young girl, only ten. Minas Tirith was attacked by the Dark Lord Sauron, and the soldiers rode out to fight. The Lady Éowyn went too, disguised as the soldier Dernhelm. My father went, and my mother worked as a caretaker for the wounded. Of course, I was expected to do nothing, because I was just a girl. But it was now that I got my first taste of what life was like. 

Seeing my father ride out to battle with the grim look on his face scared me. It wasn't until later that I realized that he _knew_ he wasn't coming back. He was quite aware that he would die in battle, though at the time I was not. 

"You're a brave little girl, you know that, Astal?" he had said to me seriously, solemnly. 

"Brave like you, Father?" I cried, gleeful. It was of course the ultimate compliment to be brave like my father. In my eyes he was the greatest human who ever lived. 

"No, Astal," he said sadly. "You're much braver than I shall ever be." He leaned forward and kissed my brow and pulled me into a hug. "Take care of your mother while I'm gone," he commanded. 

"Yes, Father," I had answered proudly. 

He smiled wanly at me, requested that I find his cloak for him, and went to bid my mother farewell. Dutifully I ran to find his cloak, but when I returned he had gone. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- 

Father never returned. He was a fairly old man by then, and he had never been a warrior. His skills had been with architecture. He was, after all, one of the greatest architects in the history of the White City. My mother never truly recovered from my father's death. Fortunately, he had saved more than enough to support my mother and myself for quite some time. My mother's spirit broken, she never returned to the Houses of Healing where she worked with the healers. She spent the remaining few years of her life locked in her room, crying until there were no tears left, when she would simply stare out the window at nothing at all. 

I wasn't ready when my mother died. No one is ever ready for the death of someone close to them, but I was even less prepared because I wasn't close to my mother; she was just a companion. Less than that, really; I was her caretaker and she mine. But I was only seventeen when she died. Old enough to take care of myself, yes, but young enough that I still had need of a mother. 

By this time the War was long over, and Gondor had entered the Fourth Age. The King Elessar ruled justly with his elven wife Arwen Undómiel. As was the custom for orphans, I was taken before the King and Queen for them to decide my fate. 

They listened kindly, sympathetically, when I told them my story. Perhaps it was unnecessary to explain, because my father was fairly highly born. A second cousin of Denethor himself, we had never been wanting, but I explained how my father had worked loyally for Denethor, and had laid down his life to fight for Faramir. I explained how much it had hurt my mother when he died. I explained how hard I had worked in the kitchens of the palace after our savings had diminished. I explained that, after work, I had saved my money and paid for lessons in the arts of archery and sword fighting. I did not explain how afraid I was for my future. What would become of me? Who would take me in? Why did I deserve such charity? My father had died in battle, alone, while I had played with my dolls at home. My mother had died at home, alone, while I laughed with friends in the warm kitchens of the palace. No, I did not deserve such treatment, but here I was, before the King and Queen. 

They thought hard for a few moments. The Queen looked at me with pity. "You have had a hard time then," she stated softly. I noddded. She continued, "have you any preference as to where you go now?" 

I shook my head. "No," I told her. "I don't have any living relatives that I know of, except the Lord Faramir, who is a distant cousin through his father and mine." I laughed ruefully. "And I shan't be moved from Minas Tirith, I know that." I looked at her. "No, my Lady, I can find work here in the city. It wasn't necessary for you to hear me, but for..." 

"But for ancient Gondorian tradition," said the King sternly, so sternly that I thought he was angry for a moment. He continued, "Long have the leaders of this land listened to the stories of the orphans, and long have we found them homes and lives." He looked at me hard before continuing. "Have you read your father's will? Did he have plans at all for your future?" 

Taken aback, I replied, "No, my Lord, not to my knowledge. My mother never mentioned such things..." 

Shaking his head, the King summoned a servant. He sent the servant down into the official archives. "Your father would have arranged for your future, I'm sure of it, Lady Astal," he told me. I was immediatly even more uncomfortable. Never before had I been called that, although I suppose that is my true name. My family had never wanted servants, and I never had wanted to be addressed by the formal title. My thoughts were interrupted a few seconds later by the arrival of the King's friends, an elf and a dwarf. 

It seemed that he had been expecting them. He bent his head and spoke quietly with them for a moment, and his face turned solemn. Uncomfortable, I waited a little way off. I had not yet been dismissed, but I was not sure if I was to stay. However, the servant soon returned from the archives, carrying a scroll, which he handed to the King. 

King Elessar took the scroll and read it. The elf and dwarf waited beside him while he finished the matter with me. Finally he looked up at me. "It appears that your father did arrange for your future, Lady Astal," he told me. I was surprised but said nothing. He continued, "It seems that he had a marriage arranged for you. 

I gaped at him, quite disrespectfully. "Who?" I sputtered, all etiquette forgotten. 

He peered at the paper. "Ah!" he said. "Gormin, son of Lord Garlamin." 

My heart stopped. I knew who Gormin was. I saw him nearly every day, and he was a disgusting twenty year old young man. He was usually hanging about the town square when I left work in the evenings. A member of an unruly gang of young men, I wouldn't trust Gormin as far as I could throw a stone. And, being a fairly strong person, I could probably throw that stone _far_. Some of my dismay must have shown in my face, for the Queen said sympathetically, "You know him?" 

I nodded. "He..." I broke off and shuddered. "Surely I am not to marry him?" 

"If I might, Aragorn," broke in the elf. I blinked. I had forgotten that he and the dwarf were even there. "Surely the Lady Astal is old enough by now to make that decision for herself?" 

I looked at the elf in shock. This was my father's will. I would not go against his wishes, no matter how much I hated Gormin. I turned to stare pleadingly at the King, who had already seen the look in my eyes. 

"Unfortunately, Legolas my friend, I can't do that," he said unhappily. The King turned to me. "Well, Lady Astal, I will arrange for a meeting between the family of Lord Garlamin and yourself as soon as possible." He said it in a tone that would allow no argument, from myself or any of his friends, but he said it gently. 

"Yes, my Lord," I said meekly. The Queen looked at me with compassion and smiled gently, but I did not see it. My mind was too numb with horror at the thought of a lifetime as Gormin's wife. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- 

Four days later I found myself in the sitting room of Lord Garlamin. The room was plain but beautiful, much as ours had been before my family fell apart and we had allowed the home to fall into disrepair. 

Gormin and his parents sat before me. Garlamin was a kind enough man, if a little rough in his ways. His wife, however, was a different story. Lady Lienin was as cold and harsh as a blizzard on Caradhras, and just as brutal and unforgiving. Even to her own son and husband, Lienin was unkind and strict and critical. 

I surveyed the three nobles before me with not a little trepidation. They were a powerful family, not to be trifled with. 

Garlamin was a stocky, powerful man. His weathered face and grizzled beard made him look like he had spent half his life in the wilds, though in truth he rarely left Minas Tirith. The deep green silk and gold embroidery on his tunic contrasted sharply with his less-than-refined face. 

Lady Lienin was what other women might call "hideously beautiful." By that I mean that she had a cold, perfect beauty to her, the kind of beauty that other women would sell their souls to have. However, her beauty didn't reach any further than her face; her gray eyes were as hard as granite to most people, but they twinkled like diamonds when Lienin wanted something. Even the gray streaks in Lienin's glossy black hair were beautiful. Lienin was gorgeous, and she was no fool. It was a deadly combination in the upper-class society. 

Gormin himself was a nice looking young man. In truth he wasn't nearly as awful to be around as many of his friends were, but I found his morals to be sketchy at the best of times. He had his father's messy sandy-brown hair and his father's dark brown eyes, but he had his mother's sharp features. By this I do not mean that he was feminine in appearance; I simply mean that his face resembled his mother's in many ways. At the moment Gormin was examining me with a speculative gleam in his eyes which I found to be... worrying. 

The silence in the room lengthened. Nervously, I smoothed my skirts. I had worn my best dress today. I liked dressing up, I liked playing the part of a lady when I got the chance, but in my life such an opportunity rarely presented itself. 

Today I had chosen to wear a green satiny gown with gold needlework on the hems. Green and gold were the colors of Garlamin's House, and I wanted to make a good impression. Whatever else I was, I was not the rebellious type, and I wanted nothing more than to live up to my father's expectations and wishes, no matter how much I was repulsed by the idea of spending the rest of my life with Gormin. 

Toying with a loose piece of gold thread, I sighed softly and asked Lord Garlamin when the wedding was to take place. 

His answer sent my world crashing down about me. 


	3. A Bargain

2.  A Bargain

"There will be no wedding." 

I blinked at him. "What?" 

Lienin sniffed. Her elegant face tilted in a way that gave the distince impression that she was, indeed, looking down her nose at me. "It has come to our attention that your family is..._less_ than we thought it was. Please accept our most..._sincere_ apologies when we say that the betrothal has been called off." 

I stared. I'm sure I looked like quite a fool, with my eyes wide and unblinking. Feeling the beginnings of desperate tears in my eyes, I fought the emotions down and asked, as cooly as possible, "why? Why am I less than what you thought?" Somehow I knew that she'd been referring to me in particular, not just my whole family. "My father..." 

"Your father was a good man," Garlamin assured me. "He was one of my best friends. But since his death, it seems that your family has..." 

"Declined," Lienin supplied for him. "It seems that your mother spent all of her time alone in your house grieving. Hardly proper for one who should be continuing her work in the Houses of Healing. And you! You went to work in the palace kitchens. The _kitchens!_ Have you no pride?" 

"We... we needed the money," I said shakily. I was still having a hard time comprehending that she had decided to back out on the betrothal. Didn't she understand how important this was?" 

"And lessons in archery and swordplay? How do you justify that?" Lienin looked as if she didn't expect me to justify it at all, but Garlamin and Gormin looked interested. 

I shrugged hesitantly. "My father always wanted a son. But when there was no son, he often mentioned giving me lessons in weaponry. He said it jokingly, but I think there was a grain of truth in his jests." 

"Indeed. Well, _Lady_ Astal, I was sure you would understand. I thank you for your time." Lienin stood and swept out of the room, her luxurious satin gowns rustling as she walked. 

I was more than a little surprised by the abrupt end to the conversation, and I am sure that I gaped a little at Lord Garlamin and Gormin. 

"What my wife means," Garlamin explained in a slightly embarassed tone, "is that we are concerned about the matter of the dowry." 

It was as if something had just clicked into place in my mind. Of course that was it. I should have realized that that would be what Lienin would be concerned about. 

"What was the agreed dowry?" I asked slowly, reluctantly. The truth was, my savings were very little, because the work I did now did not pay terribly well. After all, it was not a job meant for peopleof the upper classes. 

"A sum of one thousand in gold Gondorian coin," Garalmin said, "and your father agreed to design a summer home for us in Ithilien. Surely you know what a respected architect the man was. When he died we were going to trade that part of the deal for some of that prime property you own in Ithilien." 

I nodded numbly. One thousand in all gold pieces? My mother and I could have lived comfortably off such a sum for over three years. 

Shivering at the thought of my next words, I forced the dread down and stood, saying, "Lord Garlamin, my father made a promise to you. I swear that I will fulfill it in any way possible. The land in Ithilien, you say? That is still ours, but it is fairly small plot, if I remember correctly." 

He shrugged. "Land of any kind in Ithilien can be hard to come by, and yours is in a prime location. I would accept the land, along with eight hundred in gold, as a suitable dowry." 

I swallowed before nodding. "Eight hundred gold and the land in Ithilien... in return for the marriage?" At his nod, I swallowed again. "Right. I will see to it that I get you those eight hundred gold coins somehow. Good day to you, Lord Garlamin, Master Gormin." Curtsying slightly, I turned to leave. However, as my foot was on the threshold, Garlamin called me back for a moment. I turned to look at him curiously. 

"Yes?" 

"Lady Astal, if I'm not mistaken, you and Gormin here are not the best of friends." I glanced at Gormin and saw that he was eyeing his boots and pointedly ignoring me. I shrugged a little. 

"We don't speak much, my Lord," I said evasively. 

Garlamin raised an eyebrow. "If that's how you want to phrase it," he said doubtfully. "But I was wondering... how are you going to get the money? And why are you so eager to fulfill the agreement? You must remember that if my wife suspects you are being less than proper, she will pull Gormin out of this marriage before you can say 'Elessar.'" 

"It was in my father's will, sir," I said firmly. "And I don't know how I plan to get the eight hundred gold pieces, but I'll do it somehow." Smiling wryly, I added, "but I can assure you that it will most likely not be from work in the kitchens. Good day to you both." Curtseying again, I turned and left. 

Outside in the street, my carefully held calm exterior shattered. When I was but a half block from Garlamin's home, I was already trembling in anger. His family intended to break a deal with my family! True, we didn't seem to be the most well-off of the noble families in Minas Tirith, not now, but surelly they could have placed a little faith into her family, given them a chance to find the necessary money before simply pulling out! 

As I continued on foot through the city, my thoughts turned to other worrying things. Where would I find the money? Rolling my eyes to the heavens, I sent a prayer to my father. 

_~I hope you're proud of me.~_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Less than a week later I found myself visiting my family's summer home in Ithilien. I was a little sad about giving it up; after all, it had been in the family for generations. 

The little house was situated on a squarish plot that was an acre, maybe two. A small plot, considering that most of our neighbors had several acres. The little cottage had been there for years. I hadn't been to the tiny summer home in years, since before my father died. I put the little key into the lock and forced the lock open. The mechanism was rusty after so many years, but I pushed the door open and stepped into the cottage. Little clouds of dust followed my feet across the wooden floor. Sunlight streamed in through a window high on the west wall, and the tiny dust particles in the air were illuminated by the sunlight as they danced around the room. 

Smiling, I looked around me and reveled in the memories which I had thought to be long forgotten. The cottage was only four rooms, reminiscent of earlier days when my family had barely enough money to be considered part of the Gondorian "nobility." Smiling wryly to myself, I thought that we seemed to have made a full circle back to those earlier times. 

The front room was quite large. The friendly sitting area could have held about eight people comfortably and I smiled as I remembered days spent here with my parents, talking and laughing. The tiny kitchen was barely large enough for the cooking supplies and the small table it held. The other two rooms were bedrooms, small but comfortable. But my favorite part of the cottage was the tiny loft above the front sitting room. The loft held a small bed and a bookshelf, which was filled with toys and books from my childhood days. I shook my head at the thought of selling this plot of land, especially for a marriage I did not want. But my father had made a promise, and it was his reputation and wishes that I was determined to honor. 

Walking into the bedroom that my parents had used all those years ago, I spotted a large wooden chest that lay under the large quilted bed. I couldn't recall seeing it before. My curiosity piqued, I moved to open it. 

Dust billowed from the chest as I tugged the lid open. Searching through the papers and knick knacks that filled the chest, I was at first disappointed when I found nothing of interest. Just as I was about to shut the lid I spotted a large leather folder. The shiny embossed gold letters on the cover and the gleaming black leather showed that it was quite obviously new, unlike the other things in the trunk. However, it was what the embossed letters said that made me wonder. 

Shining in the afternoon sunlight, the letters on that black folder spelled "Astal." 

Curious, I pulled the folder from the trunk and took it into the sitting room to read its contents. 


	4. Letters

8-17-03

Sorry I took so long to update!

I am going to answer a few questions here.  People have emailed me asking about my character, about why she was so determined to fulfill her father's wishes, especially when she did not want to comply.  The reason I write about her like this is because that is probably how women in Middle Earth were.  I enjoy headstrong, rebellious female leads just as much as the next fanfic author/reader, but I felt it was time for a different take on the strong female protagonist storyline.  Even if Astal is a little meeker than many would like, she's very strong, as I hope you will all discover!

3.  Letters 

I sat down on a comfortable chair in the sunlit room and opened the folder. I was surprised to note how many papers were in the folder, but luckily they were all neatly organized and bound within the folder. I turned my attention to the first page. It turned out to be a letter from my father. 

_My dear Astal,  
I have no idea how old you are now as you read this, or how much your mother and I have told you. It is probably best for me to assume that we have told you nothing, so I will start from the beginning, assuming that we have kept you in the dark up until this moment.  
If you are reading this letter it most likely means that either your mother or myself has passed away. I can think of no other reason why you would be looking through the trunk in our room. Sadly, my daughter, this folder will not hold much with which you might assuage your grief.  
If I am dead, you will most likely know of a betrothal that your mother and I made for you, when you were merely five years old. If you are an adult, you probably wonder why we did not tell you of this years ago. We did not tell you because we had high hopes of the whole thing being called off eventually, and if there was a possibility that it might come to pass that the betrothal was unnecessary, then there would be no reason to worry you with the idea.  
Why the betrothal to Gormin, you probably ask. Firstly I must assure you that Gormin's father Garlamin is a very kind, respectable man (it is his wife who worries me!). As I write this letter, you are six, nearly seven years old and Gormin is nine, and I have no way of knowing what Gormin will be like in the future, but for your sake I hope he is as admirable as his father. However, I had no wish to force you into a marriage, and this betrothal was a marriage of what you might call "convenience."  
If you are not sitting right now, daughter, I suggest that you do, because I am assuming that you do not know what I am about to tell you.  
You were not born in Gondor. You were born just outside of Laketown, which is a few miles east of Mirkwood and west of Erebor. Your mother and I were visiting relatives of hers there, and had intended to return to Gondor long before your birth, but a series of storms and other events forced us to remain in that town for several months longer than we had planned. In the end you were born in a small house on a homestead only a mile or two from Laketown. However, it was not only you that was born there. You had--have--a twin brother. Corwiin _[A/N: this name is meant to be pronounced "kuh-WINE", with a silent "r" and emphasis on the second syllable]_. He was born only minutes before you.  
However, the little farm where your mother's relations lived was far enough from the protection of Laketown that it was at risk. Parties of marauding brigands roamed the countryside, and we were unfortunate enough to be the target of one of their raids.  
They attacked that little farm at night. Your mother's cousin and all of his family save one child survived, but in the fighting little Corwiin vanished. We have reason to believe that the brigands did not kill Corwiin, because we gathered a large party of men and searched the countryside for weeks afterwards, and we never found a body. One of your mother's cousin's children was killed, and his body was immediatly discovered. We have no idea why one body was discovered but not the other, but this gives us reason to hope that Corwiin survived. Unfortunately, the brigands have reputations as being fine woodsmen, and if they do not wish to be found, then we will probably never come close to discovering them.  
Over twenty years ago (remember that as I write this you are only six years old!), Garlamin still lived in Laketown with his father and his family. They had been stationed there by Denethor's father, as representatives of Gondor. During his young adulthood there, Garlamin established a reputation as being something of a trouble-maker, if you will. Nothing serious, just a few harmless pranks. Twenty years ago Denethor called him back to Minas Tirith, and Garlamin moved his family back to Gondor. However, I have reason to believe that Garlamin retained his contacts in Laketown, and I am almost positive that those contacts include at least one brigand, even if that one brigand was not a member of the party that stole Corwiin away from us.  
To make this short, I will cut to the chase. Corwiin is probably still with the brigands, and has most likely been brought up to believe that he is one of them. But this makes no difference to me or your mother. Garlamin has agreed to do everything in his power to find Corwiin, but he has admitted that it will be an extremely difficult task, and it could possibly endanger his good reputation in Gondor (his trouble-making days were left behind in Laketown). However, his price for this search was you, Astal. As his lovely wife so nicely put it, if his reputation was to be lost then he should at least have a good connection to a well known, respected family; namely, us. Lienin also demanded a large dowry, but we did not find it unreasonable.  
As I write this, Astal, I hope that Garlamin has begun his search. Perhaps he will find Corwiin before you come of age, and perhaps we can work out a new deal that does not require you to marry Gormin if you do not wish to.  
However, if that cannot be arranged, I am sure you understand why we have done this. If I am dead, Astal, please find within your heart a way to forgive me. I have included all the necessary paperwork for you in this folder. I hope that you lead a long and happy life.  
All my love,  
Father_

I put the folder down and stood up. Before I read the rest of the folder, I began to pace to clear my head a little bit. _Corwiin_, I thought to myself, trying out the name in my mind. _I have a brother named Corwiin._ When I thought I was composed enough to return to the folder, I sat back down in the chair and turned to the next page. 

The rest of the book was filled with documents and such. I found a certificate of birth for myself and Corwiin. I read the correspondance between my father and Garlamin regarding the betrothal. There was a copy of the final betrothal agreement, as well as letters between my family and my mother's cousin (whose name was Jorin). There were copies of the official records of the searches for the brigands. There was a single sheet of paper including all of the information that Garlamin had at the time. 

However, it was the last things in the folder that surprised me the most. A browning slip of paper, which proved to be over eighty years old when I glanced at the date, showed of a debt of five hundred gold coins owed to my grandfather by his cousin, who was Denethor's father. Judging from the slip of paper, it did not appear that the debt had every been repaid. Attached to the old parchment was a note in my father's handwriting, saying that this money could be used to pay for my dowry, if it was needed. 

The last thing in the folder was a large packet of papers, which turned out to be the plans for a magnificent summer home in Ithilien. Apparently my father had planned ahead, and had begun the plans as soon as possible. Knowing my father, I was sure he had done it for my sake as much as for Garlamin's; he had known that if I married Gormin I would probably be spending time at the summer home as well. 

Shakily I closed the folder. By this time it was nearly dusk, and the light in the cabin was fading. It was too late to start my journey back to Minas Tirith, so I prepared for bed. As I stared at the ceiling above me, waiting for sleep, my thoughts went back over the information I had learned today. 

Why had my parents kept Corwiin a secret from me? And why had Garlamin and Lienin not mentioned that part of the betrothal deal? The questions tumbled around my head before I finally fell asleep. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-===-=-= 

The next morning I began my journey back to Minas Tirith. A few days later I had returned to our home in the city. By now most of the house was empty; much of the furniture had been sold, and the house itself was in the process of changing owners. I had already found a small apartment to rent. It was in a quiet part of the city, and would be perfect for me until I married. 

Glancing in the till, I sighed when I noted how little money there was. For the furniture and house I would receive perhaps two thousand gold coins; more than enough to pay for the dowry. But because of the nature of such large transactions, it would be several months still before I had all of the money. At the moment I had perhaps a hundred gold coins, seventy five silver, and numerous coppers. That gave me a total sum of about one hundred seventy gold with which I was to live for the coming months. With the five hundred coin debt, I would be able to pay the rent on the apartment and live comfortably, if not lavishly, for about eight months. 

A knock on the door announced the arrival of a visitor. Startled, I hurried to open the door. It turned out to be a servant of Garlamin's delivering a letter. I thanked him and gave him a copper coin for his troubles. The man bowed but did not leave, saying that his master wished a reply, and I sat to read the letter. I was surprised to realize that it was not from Garlamin or Lienin, but from Gormin. 

Breaking the wax seal, I read the letter quickly and was shocked to see what it said. Gormin, the wild, rude, ill-mannered urchin boy from the streets of Minas Tirith, was inviting me (very politely, I might add!) to spend a day with him in a week! He said it was to get to know each other a little better. 

Blinking, I rummaged around a desk that had not been sold to find a pen, some ink and a piece of parchment paper. I wrote a polite reply, accepting Gormin's invitation (what else could I do when he had asked so courteously?), and sent it back with the servant. 

When the man had gone, I sank down into a chair and sighed. 

The last weeks had been filled with far too many shocks and surprises, but I knew that the chaos had only just begun. 


End file.
